verdant green
by katjedi
Summary: Mikleo refused to vocalize it, of course—Sorey doesn't need to know of it, never needs to—but even he had to admit there was an amorphous beauty to them. Post-apocalyptic cyberpunk AU. Brief mentions of other characters, terminal illness and death.


**Series:** Tales of Zestiria  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Genre:** AU. Post-apocalypse, Science Fiction, Cyberpunk/Dieselpunk.  
 **Character(s):** Mikleo, Sorey, Atakk. Brief mentions of Michael, Muse and Zenrus.  
 **Warnings:** Character death, mentions of terminal illness, nonsense sci-fi medical procedures and terminology. Also, despite that DEATH tag, the ending is somewhat hopeful (because I still love my sons and want them to be happy).  
 **Summary:** Mikleo refused to vocalize it, of course—Sorey doesn't need to know of it, never needs to—but even he had to admit there was an amorphous beauty to them.

 **A/N:** So there was a tumblr post about using words like "smaragdine" in fic (? wHY lol). And what started out as a joke conversation with a friend on twitter turned into something more. Also, _Buckerminsterfullurene_ is not a made-up term. They are actually the smallest molecule of carbon shaped like a hollow hexagonal sphere, like a football (that's why they're also called 'buckyballs') except nano-sized.

* * *

 **verdant green**

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 **~.*.~**

 **.**

 **.**

Mikleo refused to vocalize it, of course— _Sorey doesn't need to know of it, never needs to—_ but even he had to admit there was an amorphous beauty to them. If he was allowed to observe them up-close and for longer, he would marvel at that perfect formation of fused-rings, structured and welded together into a tight crystalline sphere, their colour the verdant green of lush forests, of unearthed emeralds hidden in sunken pirate hoards.

 _Or like smaragdine Buckminsterfullerenes._

Mikleo frowned, and then mentally shuddered, adjusting his glasses over the bridge of his nose with a delicate finger. The corner of his lips crinkled into a crooked smile as he fingered the brass locket around his neck, feeling the blunt edges of the hexagonal sphere. Now _that_ was a terrible way to describe anyone's eyes, though he suspected Sorey would have found it cool anyway, because, _Mikleo, look! This author knows about buckyballs too! Think they know anything else about other nanoparticles?_

 _Maybe,_ he would've replied with a frown and a huff, _though probably not as much as their proclivity for waxing lyrical with, uh, less than palatable prose._

A heavy silence lingered over him, and—

And Mikleo could almost see it, could almost _hear_ it—the tiny curve of a smirk, an amused snort and then Sorey's laugh, bright and radiant like sunrise. He blinked, suddenly aware of the throbbing ache within his chest; he straightened himself in his seat, glancing up at the glowing panels beside the bed. Electric-blue lines danced in spikes across the dark screen in tune to the soft beeps of the instruments, like waves crashing and receding from the shoreline.

"How much longer, Atakk?" Mikleo asked, turning his gaze back to the bed, at the figure resting. The small droid beside him chimed a soft response, yellow lights blinking steadily as it continued its extraction work.

"Right," Mikleo said, and then to Atakk's second beep—a query, this time—he exhaled softly, before he managed a tiny, reassuring smile. "I'm all right. Just…nervous. But we've here now. And I…"

Another sigh, fingers curling into his palms, digging into flesh and, "I… We—There's no turning back now. Not when we've come this far. Sorey will understand."

 _Sorey wouldn't want this and you know it,_ said the quiet voice in his head, and Mikleo knew, in the deepest recesses of his heart, it was true. Sorey would want him to move on, to be happy, to _live_ —

 _But what about what_ **I** _want?_ He thought bitterly, almost angrily. They had all left him, one by one. Mother first, in the crash, and then Uncle in that incident when The Council had demanded access to his research, had coerced him into a project he'd fought hard against and failed. Even Gramps was gone, returned to dust and cinders. Mikleo had lost them all within a span of five years and now, after months of endless tests and bacta-therapy/arti-org graft procedures and hollow promises of _he'll be cured and awake in no time, don't you worry! ..._

Mikleo sighed, squeezing his eyes shut to chase away the pain and memory, to find his centre again.

No, he would not lose Sorey either; he could not. He was selfish, he knew, for wanting this, but he was also afraid. If they could not, would not save Sorey—then, _he_ will.

Atakk's excited whistle drew Mikleo back to the present and he opened his eyes. He watched the droid remove its data extraction limb from the tangle of wires and cables that ran from the instruments and up the bed frame, to the device strapped around the figure's head. Turning to the panels again, Mikleo could see the blue spikes gradually receding, the oscillation sluggish now, before it finally flatlined. The instruments began to screech, and Mikleo quickly moved to flick the power button off, killing off the alarm.

For a moment, he neither moved nor spoke—gazing through the silence of the room at the figure on the bed, his eyes misty from guilt, pain and longing. Then, he rose from the chair and patted the droid fondly over its domed head. "Let's get out of here before someone notices."

Atakk chirruped a positive and quietly rolled towards the door. Mikleo followed suit, pausing only at the doorway to glance furtively back at the motionless figure.

 _Forgive me, Sorey. But I'm going to save you—I promise._

 **'*'**

They left the city before dawn, riding past residential blocks of dreary grey, the land-speeder coughing out clouds of grit and yellowed dust in its wake as the engine whined in tune to the faint trill of birdsong. Camlann had never been more than a decaying city of rusting metal architecture and sun-baked streets. But it was the only place Mikleo had known, had called home for the past twenty-one years.

 _It's not really home anymore though. Not since Mother and Uncle and Gramps…_

He shook his head, concentrating at the dusty trail ahead, before looking over at Atakk. The droid whistled softly in the seat beside him, beads of lights flashing in sequence over its front panels. Somewhere, encrypted within its system was a stream of coded information, of preserved memories, of a shared lifetime.

Somewhere, embedded in the deluge of algorithms and alpha-numeric ciphers was a glimmer of hope, of _home_ again.

By early noon, they'd left Camlann far behind them, blazing ahead towards the deserted valleys of Elysium.

 **'*'**

He sat, for three days and nights, in a makeshift bunk in a rocky cleft, hidden from view by sparse shrubbery at the foot of a hill. Atakk was always by his side. The droid's extraction limb was plugged into the network of cables and creaking machinery around them, information— _information and memory and a shared lifetime_ —downloading in flashing blips of green and blue upon the screen.

Mikleo sat upon a bed of desert flowers entwined with curling vines, fingering the brass locket he held in his hand, watching the viridescent glow cast nebulous shapes over the slate-grey rock face surrounding them.

He sat and waited, the sound of whirring mechanical parts his only lullaby.

 **'*'**

It almost seemed too long, too bleak, but finally, _finally—_ the sun broke through gloom and misty cloud banks, and Atakk chirped. The droid wiggled where it had stood motionless for days, releasing a series of excited beeps and whistles. Mikleo moved quickly to its side, blood rushing in his ears, his heart pounding as his gaze flickered over to the cramped corner of the cave.

He exhaled, softly, slowly. There was a whirr of pistons and the soft whine of mechanical joints. Mikleo watched in silent awe as the figure—an android shaped and formed like a young humanoid male—sat up, one hand raised to brush a lock of synthetic brown hair from his forehead. The android held up both arms, studying them for a moment, before turning to gaze at Mikleo. His eyes were over-bright in the dim cave, bright and radiant like sunrise. Bright like the verdant green of lush forests, of unearthed emeralds hidden in sunken pirate hoards.

 _Bright like—_

"Smaragdine." The low, electronic voice echoed through the cave; a long pause, and then—"Buckminsterfullerenes."

The android blinked and tilted his head in an angle that was achingly familiar to Mikleo.

"Mikleo…?" the android said, and Mikleo felt his heart clench, relief and yearning and sorrow all rolling into one and threatening to overwhelm him. He'd almost wanted to laugh then, at the absurdity, at everything. But he let out a sigh of relief instead, the knots and tension he hadn't realised was there gradually dissipated from his shoulders.

"I… I know you. I know _us_ ," the android repeated, testing the feel of his voice as though he'd finally understood his nature, of his _being_. And this time, Mikleo knew for sure, it was Sorey's voice. It sounded lower, inflected with a synthesized edge now, but still, it was unmistakably…

His eyes burning, Mikleo reached towards the android—towards _Sorey_ , now awake and aware; towards _Sorey_ , his dearest friend, the only person left in this crumbling barren world who was family—and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"I'm here, Sorey," he said, voice strained and heavy with emotion. He could feel the soft vibration of whirring gears through Sorey's chest, could hear the gentle ticking of a clockwork heart encased in alloy and steel. "Took you long enough."

"Mikleo," Sorey said once more, his head still angled in confusion. But his eyes were filled with recognition and warmth. "Looks like I've missed a lot. What… happened? Did we—" He looked around the cave in wonderment. "Did we fall down a hole because of you again?"

Mikleo crinkled his nose in slight petulance, brushing away stray tears from his eyes before they could fall. Beside them, Atakk was still wiggling in barely contained excitement, chirruping lightly. Mikleo laughed softly then, and tightened his hold around Sorey.

"It's a long story…"

.

.

 ** _—end—_**

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 _ **:::**_

 **End notes:**

In all seriousness though, please don't call anyone's eyes "smaragdine orbs", unless they're part lizard-man/dragon or literal jewels LOL.

I don't really know what this is but the idea wouldn't leave me. Showers are dangerous places to cultivate plot bunnies.

Some backstory to this AU, because idk if I'll write more for it:  
\- Mikleo and Sorey are Bio-engineering research graduates. Their interest in the study of ecology and mechatronics was, in part, due to Michael, who is a well-known Robotics scientist within the Academy's research circles and Muse, who worked as a conservationist. Sorey's mother, Selene, was one of the few who dared brave the safety of the City Dome to explore the endless sand dunes outside. Shortly after giving birth to Sorey, she headed out on a scouting expedition, searching for the famed oases rumored to exist somewhere in the Elysium valleys. She never returned to Camlann.

\- When the boys were sixteen, the Council of Camlann approached Michael to recruit his skills for Project War Machine. However, he refused to co-operate as he'd only wished to apply robotics for the betterment of their people, not to create weaponized droids in the War of the Dying Cities. He and Muse were punished severely for their refusal.

\- Gramps became Mikleo and Sorey's guardian after Michael and Muse's deaths, but he was old and frail, and soon succumbed to the Dust Plague. Sorey caught the Dust virus while venturing out to the sand dunes to collect water samples from the solar-powered harvesters. The Dust virus causes gradual failure of all vital organs and patients soon fall into a deep coma that most do not awake from.

\- Mikleo searched for a cure, but could not find any. When he looked over Michael's old research notes in transferring a person's ghost (his uncle's term for the human soul) into a synthesized host body, he knew then what he had to do to save Sorey. For two years, he worked on building android prototypes in secret and when he finally created the perfect model, he set his plan in motion.

\- Atakk is named so because of its model number: AT-AK01. The droid belonged to Michael and had helped him with his research.

-Mikleo's brass locket was an anniversary gift from his father to Muse. His father had passed away before he was born.

\- I was listening to the tracks **_Pain, Loss and Love_** from the Wonder Woman OST while editing and was promptly whelmed with feels for this for fic. sORRY for all the pain adhfjffjdfs.


End file.
